Quiet as a Nun Read Online Free PDF

must explain to me what's going on here. Or what has been going on. I'm really quite at sea. Let me state a few simple facts—' Oh that phrase! Why couldn't I resist it? Even now when I was desperately trying to be honest. A phrase parodied by satirical programmes, which generally had me following it with a load of absolutely incomprehensible gibberish. 'No, Sister Miriam, Rosabelle, never wrote to me about the programme. In my enquiries I certainly never came across the fact that a nun of the O.T.I . had any connection with the properties - why, that would have made a terrific addition to the programme, come to think of it—'
I reined myself in. This was scarcely the time for such enthusiasm.
    'Jemima knows, she wrote . . . But Jemima doesn't know. You must tell me. Otherwise I cannot begin to help you.'
There was a silence. It was interrupted by a knock at the door.
    'Yes, come in,' said Mother Ancilla sharply. 'Yes, Sister, what is it now?'
    'Oh, I'm sorry, Reverend Mother, I didn't realise you had a visitor—' A slightly breathless voice behind me. But I did not quite like to turn round and stare. I waited for Mother Ancilla to introduce me. But Mother Ancilla continued to gaze over my head at her visitor with barely concealed annoyance.
    'As you can see, Sister, I'm really rather busy at the moment,' was all she said. The unseen visitor - a nun, evidently, but I knew no more than that - departed.
    Mother Ancilla frowned. I noticed that she suspended speaking until there could be no question of the recent intruder overhearing us.
    Then at last she explained. How Rosabelle Powerstock, in her new life as Sister Miriam of the Order of the Tower of Ivory, had never shown any particular interest in her previous wealth. She took her vow of poverty extremely seriously. Naturally she brought a dowry with her to the convent as all the nuns did.
    'A substantial dowry,' said Mother Ancilla, nodding. The language laboratory? The swimming pool? I did not like to interrupt her by asking. 'Our Blessed Lord saw to it that at last we were able to mend the chapel roof, which has needed the most expensive repairs since the day of Reverend Mother Felix.' Ah. I felt reproved for the secular nature of my speculations. But beyond that she had renounced the vast trusts once administered in her name, the beneficiaries being a series of Catholic charities and educational projects.
    Of course, Sister Miriam had made the usual will required by a member of the O.T.I ., leaving the residue of her dowry to that community. But that in itself was not expected to be a great fortune. And what with chapel roofs and other religious luxuries ... In the years which had passed since dear Sir Gilbert's death - his dear death, I almost thought Mother Ancilla would say - no-one had had the faintest idea that Rosabelle Powerstock still retained outright ownership of every single inch of the so-called convent grounds of the Blessed Eleanor's. It was, it seemed, an oversight on the lawyers' part that the trust deed which covered the buildings did not in fact cover the lands. A technicality.
    'One can't help wondering why, if they were to make the mistake in the first place, Our Blessed Lord ever guided them to discover it so many years later,' observed Mother Ancilla with something approaching waspishness. But discover it, they had. And in their interminable way had begun the long, long process to rectify it. To establish the deed by which Rosabelle Powerstock would hand over the grounds to the convent, as once her father had officially handed over the buildings.
'She agreed to do so?' I interrupted.
    'At first. Without hesitation. I told you that Sister Miriam cared nothing for the things of this world. In her right mind.'
    'But lately, there was a change. She wanted to give these same lands away?'
    'Oh, those lawyers, they took so long. And wrote so many letters. And came to see her, and insisted on explaining to her what she was doing. As if Sister Miriam was